


A Dream of the Past, Present and Future

by frustrated_writer



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Butterflies, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Feelings Realization, Ghost Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Grief/Mourning, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Memories, Reminiscing, Sigils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frustrated_writer/pseuds/frustrated_writer
Summary: After Arthur's passing, Merlin went back to Arthur's chamber to reminisce the years he had served his King. Weighed down by grief and exhaustion, Merlin fell asleep on Arthur's bed. He was then awaken by the man with familiar golden hair and blue irises he terribly longed for.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 158





	A Dream of the Past, Present and Future

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a common headcanon for the Merlin fandom that after Arthur's passing Merlin did not return to Camelot. But what if he did? I thought that he would go straight to Arthur's chambers and angsty melodies will be played.
> 
> I know the fic is not perfect but hopefully you guys would still enjoy it. Thank you! :)

Merlin gently opened the door, light spilling out the room. Everything looked like how they had left it; the discarded tunics, worn out boots, scattered battle plans and the perfectly made bed, but the table and chairs were now thick with dust. Merlin drew the curtains, the full moon shining bright above him yet taunting him at the same time. 

With a muttered spell all the candles lit and the fireplace roared back to life. Merlin then dusted off the furnitures, picked up the parchments and stacked them orderly on top of the study table, folded all the used tunics, and rearranged the contents of the cupboard. 

Merlin felt droplets of sweat trickling down his neck after the exertion he did. He peeled off his jacket and neckerchief and felt a little more relieved just with his tunic. He then settled on the chair with the golden crown heavy on his hands. 

Five years ago Merlin felt the greatest pride as the Once and Future King gets crowned at last. Heavy on the King's shoulder was the duty to protect Camelot.  _ Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King! _ Everyone chanted and welcomed the beginning of the young King's reign. 

From then on it has been his task to polish the King's crown to perfection from time to time. It was a privilege to place it on top of the King's head. There were times their eyes would meet and Merlin would hope that his King would see his pride and dedication.  _ I am happy to be your servant till the day I die.  _ And he meant every word. 

But everything was a lie. The King did not live long. His King died in his arms. 

For ten years Merlin had memorized every corner of this room. Even with his eyes closed he could find everything that his King would need. But it was the first time the room became this eerie, quiet,  _ empty _ . No one was sprawled on the bed with his hair all over the place and snoring softly, neither someone under the candlelight with his face plastered both with worry and deep concentration. 

Merlin should either draw a bath or set the table by this time, but now the only thing he could do was stare blankly into space. His eyes wandered around the room, tried to reminisce every movement, every sound, every shared moment. It should be filled with endless bickering, laughter, or that bright smile, blue eyes, golden hair, everything that's familiar and tactile.

Instead, he could hear his own staggering breath and his heart screaming of unfathomable pain. He clutched the crown tighter unto his chest and allowed himself to cry over the man who's worthy of his tears. 

The very last conversation Merlin and Arthur had in this room still echoed and ached Merlin's soul. 

_ I just wanted to make sure you had everything needed for your journey in Camlann and the days ahead. _ He could not look at Arthur's eyes. Guilt was consuming him whole. Without his magic, he felt useless. He was nothing. How could he even protect Arthur without his magic? 

_ Merlin, what do you mean by my journey?  _ He never left Arthur's side. He made a promise. It was his destiny. It was his duty to the Once and Future King and for the whole of Albion. 

_ I'm afraid I won't be coming with you. Not this time. I'm sorry.  _ And his worst fear happened. All his magic and he cannot save Arthur's life. 

Exhaustion was creeping in Merlin's bones. So he stood up, placed the crown back to the cupboard and curled himself up in the bed. It was the faint familiar scent that lulled him then into sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~

_ "Merlin?" _

Merlin scrunched his eyes tight and buried himself even more in the comfort of heavy blankets. The familiar smell of musk and lavander lingered in his senses. It had been weeks since he got a proper sleep in bed. He did not even imagine that he would be able to catch sleep again because every time he shut his eyes, the image of his lifeless King cradled in his arms resurfaced. Merlin was tired. His magic drained him. He never felt this empty, this  _ lifeless _ . 

_ "Merlin, wake up." _

A steady finger reached out to brush Merlin's cheek, and did not move away. Merlin's heart hammered on his chest as he forced to open his eyes, and he met those knowing crystal blue irises he had terribly longed for. 

With a shaky breath, Merlin caught the hand still settled on his cheeks and rubbed to feel a pulse. It was silent. Nothing. But the skin under his touch felt warm, real,  _ very much alive. _ Merlin couldn't miss the shiver he felt when the candlelights wavered in the room as a cold breeze whipped around him and this very solid being in front of him. 

"Am I dreaming? What are you doing here?" 

Tears trickled down Merlin's cheeks again. His sight was blurring but the image in front of him still remained. If this was a dream, it was the first time Merlin would divulge in it and pray to all the gods for him to never wake up. 

The man in front of him responded with a smile. A smile that made his insides flutter. The perfect smile and the handsome face he promised himself he would never forget and would forever be imprinted in his memory. It's Arthur. His beloved Once and Future King. 

Merlin couldn't help himself but to smile back although his breath was still shaky as he couldn't take a grip on what was happening. Arthur did not lose his gaze on him as he shifted closer. 

_ "No, Merlin. You are certainly not dreaming." _

With a huffed laugh, Arthur sat on the bed and Merlin felt the dip of weight. Arthur was solid, no beating heart yet existing at the same time, and he was  _ here _ wearing his well polished chainmail and bright Pendragon red cloak just like how Merlin had laid him in the boat, but this time Arthur was subtly glowing and his cheeks hinted crimson. 

Merlin completely sat up and placed a hand on Arthur's forehead and Arthur closed his eyes, his lips slightly parted as if catching his breath. Merlin felt a sudden surge of magic under his touch, but it was calming and familiar. 

When Merlin finally found his voice, he gently caressed Arthur's cheek to urge him to open his eyes, "How are you here?" 

_ "There was a lady in the lake who told me she could help me to see you again, even for a short time."  _

_ Freya.  _ Of course it was Freya's magic that brought Arthur here. She had done so much for Merlin already. 

But if Arthur had been given a chance to say his last goodbyes, he shouldn't have wasted it for Merlin. "Me? You could have seen Gwen, Arthur. We already said our goodbyes." 

_ "Of course I did, Merlin. I visited her in her dreams."  _

"And are you in my dreams right now too?" 

_ "No. Like what I've said to you earlier, I am here right now in my chambers with you who is comfortably settled on my bed apparently." _

With that Merlin felt his cheeks heat and knew for sure how flushed he might look. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Can't blame me because for the last ten years I was constantly tempted to jump up and down on it." 

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head, it was very animated. And Merlin just want to throw himself into Arthur, put his arms around him to make him stay.  _ Just—just hold me. Please. _ He wouldn't, he  _ couldn't _ lose his destiny again. 

So Merlin did. With all his strength, heart and soul, he wrapped his King in a tight embrace. He let his magic pour out, cocooning the both of them in a golden light which illuminated the room. He felt Arthur return the embrace, gently nuzzling his neck, and goosebumps pricked his skin as warm droplets of tears trailed, realising Arthur was  _ crying _ too. 

Arthur was not a man of emotions. He guarded himself from everyone. He believed that he couldn't afford the luxury of confiding with someone; that the responsibility of Camelot as her King only lies to him and him alone.

Through the years Merlin learned how to unravel every mask his King wears. He could see through and around and under and in. He could read Arthur's eyes, the way he hunched his shoulders, subtly balled his fists, lips slightly apart, mind running wild and loudly doubting himself that he could have done better, the  _ best _ for his kingdom. 

Arthur had shut him off so many times and every rejection stings. But he continued to offer himself to Arthur; his council and listening ears, or even as a running shooting target practice. He accepted every hard and painful blow with his usual witty remarks and playful bantering that he knows could uplift Arthur's mood even if Arthur denies it. 

Merlin is so much more than a servant to Arthur, he is a devoted friend. He would always find a way to protect Arthur no matter how perilous it is, and most of the time he is triumphant. Until Camlann. _ All your magic, Merlin, can't save my life.  _

Merlin would allow himself to savor this moment. Here in Arthur's chambers with Arthur himself and his magic. Tears are spilling, unsaid words being heard and two bodies clinging on each other like a lifeline. 

_ "Merlin, your magic. It's beautiful. It feels like coming back home. It just—feels like you." _ Every strand of magic struck like a promise. It is Merlin baring himself completely to Arthur; free from secrets 

"I am magic, Arthur. And it is yours. I am forever yours." Merlin said with conviction, evident with his unwavering loyalty. 

_ "I'm sorry. Magic could not be evil. You could never be evil."  _

"I have blood in my hands. I killed so many times with my magic," images of screaming children, men and women as the great dragon hovered over Camelot, Uther, Agravaine, Morgana and so many other faceless beings flashed in Merlin's memory. "But all just to protect you and Albion, Arthur. I carry the heavy weight of destiny and my sins." 

Merlin was terrified. He was used on keeping everything he had done in the dark. Swallowing up the shame, betrayal, and grief. Yet now he confessed to his King. He already wounded Arthur when he never told him about his magic. He was a coward. Not even daring to imagine the reaction on his King's face. But this time, he must not run away from his demons and simply accept the consequences. 

A few more beats had passed, they stayed holding each other that felt like an eternity. The deafening silence stretched aside from Merlin's ragged breathing and pounding heart. Merlin could stay like this forever.

It was Arthur who first pulled away, clearing his throat and not meeting Merlin's eyes. He quickly dried his tears, the creases on his forehead imprinted again, and slightly bit his lower lip. 

_ "You had me at my best and worst. You chose to stay by my side no matter how big of a prat I am."  _

Merlin chuckled humorlessly, yet at the same time his heart tightened with Arthur's words. There have been very few instances in the past where Arthur would intently look at him in the eye and then praise him of his loyalty and bravery, but then it would be instantly followed with a scoff of disbelief. 

_ "What I would wish is for us to have more time in our hands,"  _ Arthur muttered, his voice unsteady and hinted with regret.  _ "I would like to know you more, Merlin. Everything. The real you and the great power you hold. Listen to you retell every time you saved my backside." _

For all the years Merlin had been by Arthur's side, he had reminded Arthur on how of a great Prince then a King he is, how his knights are loyal and would lay their lives for him, how the people of Camelot respects and loves him. Also the times when Merlin would call him out when he was being an insufferable prat. He made Arthur feel that he knows both the best and worst of him. Sometimes it seemed like Merlin knew Arthur more than Arthur knew himself. 

This time it was Arthur who wanted to learn more about Merlin, but they were too late. Merlin's chest was heavy with remorse. 

_ I trust him with my life.  _ Merlin declared it with boldness to Will and Anhora. But it was easily said than truly upholding it. He did not trust Arthur about his magic. He knew Arthur was nothing like Uther. He had faith in Arthur's just and empathetic heart, but it was never enough for him to believe Arthur would accept the real him and a time will come for magic to flourish once again in Camelot. It was Merlin's fault. He doubted his own destiny. 

Merlin felt himself shaking, but it was a firm touch on his shoulders and an unusual request that steadied him. 

_ "Merlin, show me your favorite spell."  _

Slowly, hesitant but determined, Merlin took a deep breath, and tried to pull himself together. And finally found the courage to mutter a spell, eyes turned to ambers. He felt Arthur carefully studying him, and heard the unmistaken hitched breath. He glanced at Arthur as he waved his hands, now glowing with the familiar blue orb. 

Arthur was mesmerised. Merlin made it look effortless and beautiful.  _ "So that was you in the cave several years ago. I was in the quest to save you, and even in your deathbed you were protecting me." _

Merlin grinned and nodded eagerly as he let the blue orb to become larger and hover above their heads. The blues painting Arthur's head like an ethereal halo. He looked even more breathtaking. 

Arthur followed the orb with his eyes, and then Merlin decided with a silent spell and glow of gold to make the orb burst into little blue butterflies. Most of them perched on Arthur, some on his shoulders and some creating a crown on top of his head. Their tiny wings fluttering against Arthur's cheeks as if leaving ticklish kisses. 

A single butterfly sat upon Arthur's finger with wings of red and streaks of gold, the colors blending and swirling as a reminder of Pendragon's strength and power. 

Arthur's smile was blinding as he watched the little one yet Merlin would never get tired of it. Arthur being swarmed by magical butterflies was an image Merlin never conjured in his dreams. 

"Sometimes I think my magic loves you more than I love you." The words were out of Merlin's mouth before he could even stop himself. Panic arose from his insides, his heart thumping, terrified of unraveling the emotions he had learned to bury deep in his soul. 

_ Love. _ Another secret Merlin was trying to hide with his life other than his magic. Arthur was his King. And no matter how many times he had dreamt of the way Arthur looked at him, the times Arthur endangered his life and broke rules to save his manservant, the words they exchanged when they are in face of death; they would never mean something more. No matter what Merlin feels, his respect and loyalty both to his King and Queen weigh heavier. 

The butterflies continued to fly above them, filling the void in the room. Merlin waited for Arthur to react, preparing himself for the worst. He overstepped.

Merlin felt his pulse pounding in his temples when Arthur finally spoke his voice hoarse.  _ "Merlin, there's something I want to give you. Something that I should have given a long time ago." _

Merlin faced Arthur creases forming in his forehead. It was not the reaction he expected. His mind went running again thinking of what could it be. In his years of service to his royal prat, he did not receive much material rewards. He never seek for them in the first place. The closest thing he could call as gift was that one purple tunic Arthur had commissioned for him after that  _ purple suits you, Merlin _ incident.

But waking Arthur every morning with his cheer of "rise and shine!", seeing the messy golden mop of hair on the pillow with the velvet blanket draped over the man's waist, the rays of the sun breathtakingly highlighting the toned muscles, and the beautiful face scrunching inanely followed by the usual grumbling of snarky remarks, were Merlin's favorite part of the day. And somehow he could say it was enough. To serve Arthur was his destiny and that alone was the greatest honor. 

Arthur stood up and retrieved something from the smaller cupboard beside the bed where the dungeon keys and other important things were kept. He held a black pouch and untied it, revealing a circular metal designed with a bird at the center. Merlin saw him trace the bird with his finger, his face contoured of deep thought as if reminiscing old memories. 

Arthur then returned to the bed and offered it to Merlin and finally meeting Merlin's searching eyes.  _ "It belonged to my mother. It bears her sigil. Take it." _

Merlin took it, the feeling of Arthur's warm hands and cold metal tingled his skin. He then studied the object and the dawn of realisation of its value and significance washed over him. He shook his head and extended his hand with the sigil back to Arthur, wariness clouding his insides. 

"Arthur, I can't." 

Arthur could not be serious. How could he entrust Merlin with this only piece of tether he had with his mother? If he wanted it to be safeguarded, it should have not been Merlin. He was no royalty and just a mere servant.

But instead of taking it back, Arthur wrapped his hand on Merlin's, Merlin's eyes widening with the urgent grip,  _ "Just take it. Someone close to my heart should keep it."  _ Arthur's face remained sober, but the words  _ close _ and  _ heart _ rang in Merlin's ears. 

Trust. That's what Merlin saw. Despite all the lies and betrayal he had done, Arthur still kept his faith on him. 

But there's something more, something that had been there for a long time already. And this time they did not hold back, they let it flow, everything laid down for the both of them to see and feel.  _ Love. _ Merlin's head spun, his heart full of mixed emotions threatening to burst. 

For once Merlin followed his King's orders. As Arthur withdrew his hand, Merlin slightly longing for the lost touch, he traced the bird just how Arthur did earlier. He promised to protect it that now, it is also his tether to Arthur. A reminder of how his King and best friend trusted him. 

Merlin then noticed that Arthur was slowly fading away, the buzz of magic and spirits calling him back. Panic swelled up from Merlin's chest. _Time is up._ _Nononono._ They are taking his Arthur away from him again. 

Fear and grief as the driving force, Merlin flung himself once again into Arthur, clutching the Pendragon cape as he pressed his cheek against Arthur's chest searching for the  _ thump thump thump  _ of life. 

"Arthur, no. Please. Don't go. Camelot still needs you. I need you." 

Merlin then felt fingers on his head, lightly brushing his hair and massaging his scalp. And then finally, the same warmth urged him to move away. 

_ "Heed the words Merlin. Time will come, and I shall rise again." _ Arthur was looking at him with intensity and promise.  _ "You and I will find each other again."  _

Merlin searched for courage and declared, "And I shall wait, until we meet again." 

Arthur gave him a final smile.

_ "Sleep now, my heart."  _

And with his King's words, Merlin felt the tug of sleep. His eyes growing heavy and limbs feeling tired. Strong arms wrapped around him and carefully arranged him back to bed followed by the blankets being draped over him.

And the last thing he remembered before drifting in dreams of a brighter tomorrow was the soft press of lips against his forehead. 

fin. 


End file.
